


Apocatharies Aren't Just For The Apocalypse

by ElizaG



Series: Not Just for - Post Apocalypse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Soulless Sam Winchester, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 03:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11304447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaG/pseuds/ElizaG
Summary: Dean is hurt, which Soulless Sam finds very distracting.





	Apocatharies Aren't Just For The Apocalypse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [DarkSun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkSun/gifts).



> Ask and ye shall receive justnice444. Maybe. If I already have a draft lying around waiting for me to finish it.
> 
> This is the second to last of the planned series. Unfortunately I don't have a draft of the last one yet, so you might have a bit of a wait for the last one.
> 
> Here it is, by request - Soulless Sam's perspective.

Dean’s intermittent curses from the passenger seat were sporadically punctuated by a grunt of pain. He shouldn’t find it hot, knew Dean would give him one of those people-with-souls lectures if he found out, but the sounds issuing from his mouth were too close to the sounds Sam wanted to draw from him in a different context. Besides, the wound he was whining about wouldn’t kill him, Sam had already made sure of that. Stitches, maybe. Death, certainly not.

Sam pulled over at the first semi-acceptable place they ran across. Left to his own devices, he’d have kept going. But he wanted to make sure, if nothing else, that the wound got cleaned. It would be just his luck to lose his stupid brother because of an infection.

The building appeared to be made for the task - twinned golden snakes on the large dusty front window indicated it used to be some kind of pharmacy or apothecary.

“Why are we stopping? Dean demanded.

“To patch up that rent in your skin,” Sam answered, climbing out of the driver’s seat. He opened the trunk and rummaged for the first aid kit.

“It’s not that bad,” Dean protested when Sam came even with the passenger window, kit in hand.

 “Yes. I got that impression from the moaning and crying over the last 20 miles.”

“I wasn’t crying,” Dean grumbled, but he obligingly climbed out and followed Sam into the building.

What Sam really wanted was to fuck Dean against the glass counter while they watched in the glass mirror on the wall. Instead he roughly jerked Dean’s shirt up to look at the wound.

Dean hissed in pain at the abrupt motion and drag of fabric over the open wound.

“Unless you want me to bend you over and fuck you right now, you will stop making noise,” Sam warned.

Dean went silent.

It was a situation just like this that had triggered Sam’s desire as a teen. Since Dean had gone out hunting with John years before Sam was allowed, Sam was pretty much guaranteed to be the only member of their party to be in one piece and still fully functional. It had been Sam’s job to put the other two back together. One minute Sam had been blithely stitching a lazily oozing slash across Dean’s ribs, the next he’d been hard and aching to be filled with Dean’s cock. Not that he’d known the full extent of it at that first flush.

He knew Dean had seen the lust flash across his face, but had never been able to figure out if Dean knew what it meant. He’d made a hasty exit, then desperately jerked off to visions of his brother’s battered body and the lingering memory of his fingers on Dean’s skin. His first time masturbating and what got him off was the thought of his brother penetrating his ass.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked.

Sam realized he was on his knees. Having finished with cleaning the wound, he was now pulling at Dean’s zipper. He wondered when Dean would drop the prude act. They’d fucked a woman at the same time for Lucifer’s sake. It was time for Dean to get with the program.

“Post-fight let down. Fight or fuck response.” He had no intention of telling his brother about his adolescent fantasies. “Tell me you don’t want sex as much as I do right now.”

“Don’t you ever stop?”

“It’s been nearly 24 hours,” Sam protested. And a long 24 hours at that – hunting monsters, doing good. It was time for his do-gooding reward.

Dean rolled his eyes, but didn’t stop Sam from pulling down his pants and boxers. “It’s barely been 12 hours.”

“Whatever,” he said before swallowing down Dean’s half-hard dick, which was rapidly coming to attention.

“Some of us may be soulless machines that don’t need sleep. But others of us need to recoup our strength.” Dean’s objection was half-assed at best. He put his elbows on the counter and arched into Sam’s mouth. Sam gladly took it, but there was another orifice he wanted Dean to fill.

He continued to work Dean with his mouth as he shimmed out of his pants then fished the lube out of the first aid kit. Sam squeezed lube onto his fingers and reached around to his own ass.

He moaned around Dean’s penis and braced his free hand against Dean’s hip as his finger slid smoothly up his ass. Fuck, it felt good.

Sam’s rim was tighter that it’d been before. Apparently, Lucifer hadn’t known the trick of taking it up the ass. Probably why he lost in the end.

Sam was a little rougher and less patient with himself than usual. Certainly less gentle than he’d been with Dean. But while he was coaxing Dean into the process, Sam was already well acquainted with the perks.

Sam was woefully underprepared to be the one doing the penetrating, but this he knew. It was the same as stretching himself wide for a dildo. That was how he knew to take Dean slow. Make it so Dean would enjoy it and could take it over and over again. Make him an active and willing participant in deed if not in words.

This wasn’t the fantasy of his youth. That had involved a bed. Maybe some candles. Souled Sam had a sappy, romantic streak. But it would more than suffice in the present circumstances and Sam wanted to get to the main event. When he was reasonably sure Dean would fit without too much fanfare, he squeezed more lube into his hand and stood.

Dean looked down in surprise at Sam’s hand rubbing lube into Dean’s penis. “Do you carry that with you everywhere now?”

Sam ignored the question. He pulled Dean away from the display case and traded places with him, leaned over the glass and presented his ass.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, puzzled.

“I’m already stretched out and lubed up. You can fuck me just like a chick,” Sam explained.

“I-“ Dean seemed at a loss. “I’m not fucking your ass, Sammy,” he objected.

Sam reached behind him and grabbed Dean’s wrist, jerking him closer. Dean’s penis rode between Sam’s butt checks. Sam ground back against him, the head of Dean’s cock sliding against his anus.

He met Dean’s eyes in the mirror. “If you need something up your ass to get off, we can grab the anal trainer from the car,” he offered.

“No! I don’t need that to get off.” He sounded offended Sam would even suggest it.

“Then push already.”

He did. Slow, but steady. Sam braced himself against the counter, pushing back against the pressure to allow Dean to sink into him.

“Fuck.”

The reality of Dean was better than the fantasy. Thousands of times better than a dildo. For starters, there was no awkward twisting as he tried to shove the dildo into himself. He just had to stretch his back and let Dean do the heavy lifting. He suspected he would have enjoyed it even more before his soul went AWOL. Even so, damn. Dean was just the right size, girth, and length to hit all of Sam’s sweet spots.

Dean pulled back, leaving Sam empty. Sam started to protest, then Dean pushed back in, filling Sam to bursting, and his protest turned to a moan.

Sam clinched around him, drawing breathy blasphemy from his brother. The low rumble of his voice vibrating through Sam’s body.

Sam raised his head to watch Dean in the mirror. Dean stroked and petted Sam’s back reverently. His fingers running over Sam’s skin, dimpling the flesh where ever they passed. Dean leaned down and kissed Sam between the shoulder blades.

The gesture of affection made Sam uncomfortable. It wasn’t a thing that belonged in their relationship here and now. It smacked of their childhood. Of Dean brushing Sammy’s unruly hair from his forehead. Or tucking him into bed. Dean wasn’t having sex with Sam as he was now. He was loving Sammy. Worshiping his baby brother as he used to be.

Sam slammed back into Dean, surprising a grunt from him. He rocked forward, then back again, picking up their pace.

Dean met Sam’s eyes in the mirror, back in the present. The eye contact shot sensation straight to Sam’s dick, making the already hard appendage even stiffer. Dean kept Sam’s gaze as he started to fuck him in earnest. Each thrust making Sam more pliable and sensitive.

Sam took hold of his dick. It was so full and aching he couldn’t not. Pre-cum leaked from the tip, the warm, natural slick further spurring Sam’s desire.

He never looked away from Dean’s face, but Dean’s attention wandered to where their bodies met. He wasn’t really seeing, he was too focused on the sensations. His expression degenerating to that look shared by both pleasure and pain.

He let out little gasps as he thrust into Sam. One hand wrapped around Sam’s shoulder, pulling Sam down more firmly onto his dick.

When Dean came his entire body went rigid. He thrust hard into Sam and stayed there, buried as deep as he could inside Sam’s body. Sam could feel the pulse of Dean’s penis as it pumped semen from his balls, up the shaft, and into Sam. It was that thought, the image of Dean’s cum filling his body that pushed Sam over the edge.

Dean stroked Sam’s back as they came down from their orgasms. He only stopped when his softening dick slid from Sam’s body. He pulled up his boxers and pants and shuffled a few steps back.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dean said gruffly. As if changing the tone of his voice could make the words more manly.

Sam laid his head on his arm, his other hand still stroking his cock, enjoying the aftershocks.

“Well, I’m not staying. This place isn’t that great,” Sam responded, trying to divert the conversation.

“You don’t have to do this. I won’t leave Sam.”

Sam straightened to his full height. “I fuck you because I want to. And the reasons that used to stop me don’t matter to me anymore.” He turned away from Dean and hunted for his pants.

Sam preferred the hostile retorts and quick retreats. He hoped this wasn’t the start of hand holding and soul barring. As they both knew, Sam lacked an essential ingredient for that nonsense.

Dean picked up the scattered supplies, dropping them into the first aid bag. “Get your shit. We’ve got to find gas ASAP.”

Sam couldn’t help but give himself a last pull as he watched Dean leave. Curt and to the point. And oh-so-much fun to watch walk away. Things were looking up.


End file.
